The place we currently live may or not be where our heart considers home. I was born in Northwest Germany within a mile or so of the North Sea. When I was almost 6 my family emigrated to the U.S. and we settled in South Central Nebraska … flat like Northern Germany but wide open spaces where patchwork quilts of prairie and farmland replaced the sea that one is always in relationship with when living near it.

Many years later I live in landlocked Colorado surrounded in Denver by beautiful mountain vistas, and yet as my mother before me longed for the sights and smells and sounds of home near the sea, (even though she adapted beautifully to her new land, and learned it’s ways and language, ) I too find solace in remembering where I came from and am nourished by the sights and sounds and smells of the water.

You all have places where you’ve come from and where your heart remembers being home … sometimes it’s not the place itself, but the peace you felt when at a loved one’s home who resided there. Anyway, I encourage you in this busy, noisy, chaotic world, to take yourself home for a bit and “sit with that for a spell”.

Today’s image is along the Eider River in Northern Germany at sunset where I got to be for a while. A river that cuts through flat farmland.

Many times when we are in transition we choose or have to learn skills not previously known that will help us travel a new path. This week I’ve been reading a book by Chuck DeGroat entitled: Wholeheartedness: Busyness, Exhaustion and Healing the Divided Self. I was particularly drawn to a a section in chapter 7 about “returning to our core, recovering our true self”.

…”But this is the journey – from that lonely, exposed place where we find ourselves after clawing our way to the top, to the lush valley below with streams of living water. The journey is from a place of exhaustion to a place of rest, from a place of fragmentation to a place of wholeness and wholeheartedness. … in contrast to the upward mobility of our world, this is the way of downward mobility.I (Chuck) call this a descent into wholeness…. We become more whole as we unburden ourselves as we let go of what we thought we needed in order to experience what we already have.”

This last line of the quotation above, made its home in my thoughts today. I/We so often work so hard to get to or through something with our own effort and timelines when if we would pause to engage with what we already have, we might discover some burden we could leave behind as we journey forth.

Today’s image was made on a day where I hit the pause button and noticed the light on a pepper in the windowsill . It attracted my attention and provided, and still provides, delight.

In November of 2016 I spent the weekend in New Orleans to participate in a surprise 70th birthday event for a dear friend of 42 years. Having arrived a day early, and settled at the Auld Sweet Olive Bed and Breakfast ,I ventured out with a map. I was in a residential neighborhood called Faubourg Marigny, which, along with my inn, an 1830’s creole house, was a plethora of colorful residential historic homes of the “artsy” variety.The instructions by my host were simple: out the door and to the left, and another left and right and I would find my way to the French Market area; out the door and to the right several parks and other areas of interest. All went well on day one .

The next morning I explored in greater depth and made my left, left, right and then saw a sign indicating that a foot bridge was ahead and where there’s a bridge there’s usually water, so straight ahead. Hours later I looked at my map and turned away from the beautiful urban park along the Mississippi River and found the street to return “home”. I realized that I’d made a mistake and started asking people if I was headed in the right direction. Some said yes, others no idea; it was getting dark and my feet were hurting. I approached an older woman who was standing on the sidewalk. “Excuse me, could you tell me if I’m heading in the right direction to get back to …?” She looked at my map, put her hand on my shoulder and with a lovely southern accent proclaimed: “Well my dear, you’ve walked yourself right off of your own map.” She told me that it would take “at least an hour” but I would get there by following the path I was on . “Once you cross the railroad track, you’ll be just about home” she called after me.

Today’s image was taken on a side street near the French Quarter away from the crowds and for just a second on a cloudy day, as I looked back at where I had come to …”off of my map”, I was rewarded with light. 🙂 May your “off the map” exploration assist you in seeing new opportunities in whatever stage of transition you might be in, wherever you are.

I left you here in the conservatory at the Denver Botanic Garden when I posted a blog on July 31,2015.

In that last blog I said: “Having recently experienced several non routine events in some areas of my life, I’d like to offer an insight. Instead of spending so much energy trying to work to keep it all under control,I wondered what I might need for myself during a time that required more of me than I might have …”

As it turns out that was my last blog in almost 18 months. A number of things are now settled and I’m ready to start anew. I’ve learned a lot about strengths and weaknesses ; cleaned out a metaphorical and literal file cabinet to make room; faced realities that I have less energy than before and want to be more authentically me. You all have experienced transition in your own unique situations and seasons.

The absolutely best thing that has happened is that I have learned to listen more thanks to several loving people who have held me accountable to take a look at my “dance in the moment enthusiastic narratives” and in essence stop “fire hosing people” (my term, not theirs). Some of you may be smiling now … Anyway, my very quiet, husband of many years finally said to me: “enough context, get to the point”. “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.”

Looking forward to offering insight and encouragement through Word and Image as we navigate life’s transitions … and I do have a few good narratives to share.

We’ve heard the term ” ***t happens” … a deadline looms ; health issues change our routines; a new job requires re-orientation from familiar patterns; the dog dies; the old arguments resurface; you live with a two year old; and so on. It is easy in these times to quickly seek an answer,to work at a solution, to make our case, and to do more, and seek what will bring everything back in balance.

Having recently experienced several non routine events in some areas of my life, I’d like to offer an insight. Instead of spending so much energy trying to work to keep it all under control,I wondered what I might need for myself during a time that required more of me than I might have. Paradoxically by shifting my focus to a series of small 30 minute diversions, I discovered an easier way to deal with the challenging. In photography you often achieve focus by shifting your position vs. changing the lens.

On of my diversions is the greenhouse at the Denver Botanic Garden, today’s featured image.

Where is a place that you can take yourself too to find a renewed perspective?

In my last blog I supplied the image, and I asked you dear readers to supply the words in response to this question. What thoughts about transition come to mind for you as you reflect on this image?

Here are some of your thoughts.

“Some images bright, still central. Others are fading or emerging. Discerning which are trying to emerge requires time, prayer and a community with which to discern.”

… the path is not always straight or easy to decipher.

“Life is the interplay between light and darkness, sunshine and shadow, and hinges on our interpretation of what we see and experience. Just when we think we have something figured out and labeled, we might take another look to see that it has shifted and our perception has changed. What seems good or positive at first glance may not be for our highest good, and what seems evil or negative may be a gift in disguise. That is why it is good to give thanks in all things and not judge by appearances.”

Reading these and other responses made me think of the word shift as integral to transition. A shift in focus,attitude,perception, thinking and so on … thanks for participating and now a little shift of my own. The original image actually looked like this.

Mobiles hanging in a space always draw me in to watch how light plays with movement.

Today I thought it would be fun to reverse roles. I’m supplying the image, and I ask you dear readers to supply the words. What thoughts about transition come to mind for you as you reflect on this image?

Today’s image is a giant palm leaf that I photographed at the Denver Botanic Garden Greenhouse in early winter 2009, using a ®Canon Point and Click digital camera – my first one – purchased in 2007 to document family celebrations. It was a time of new direction in my life including a recent move to Denver from a place I’d called home for 40 years. Six years later, I find myself once again composing in a new way.

After months of research, and indecision, and agonizing over making few images, and saving money for a possible new camera, I was finally able to name one key reason for my lack of enthusiasm … my now DSLR interchangeable lens camera was just too heavy and the “bells and whistles” of this model were not a fit for the type of photographer I had become. The delight of carrying that first camera with me wherever I went, now seemed burdensome with such a heavy one. Perhaps it also reminded me that a lot of “heavy” changes had occurred in my life during these last 5 years and with the lessons learned, and losses grieved, it was time to “lighten up.”.

Two weeks ago, I traded in my camera and bought new and used equipment to support my current direction and interest. Stay tuned.

Recently, I had the privilege to hear “someone’s heart” about some major decisions regarding a hoped for direction in a relationship and a desire to engage in more frequent work or perhaps a career change. After several interactions and some movement forward, I received a note. In essence: “Things didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped and I made some sacrifices, but had I not taken this risk, I would not now know so much more about me … and then this: “It was time well wasted.” I was so moved by such a healthy reframe and have been “dancing” with the phrase ever since… time well wasted. We usually say: “It was time well spent” but this reframe opens many possibilities.

We of course want to have a lot of memories of time well spent but we often don’t get there because we think it was (or is) such a waste of time to spend time on something we want to do or be. It seems so frivolous or so much work.

Today’s image is a view from an abandoned cabin at the top of a trail in Telluride, Colorado. My photo friend dragged me up there to see this “unreal view” of a cabin with multiple windows and doors that each had a unique stunning view of the surrounding landscape. The only post processing work here is a slight crop to reduce the overall size of the image. Ah…”time well wasted”.

What say you? Can you think of time well wasted that lead you to new places and insights?

We are often in a hurry to bring a task to completion; hurry along a discomfort that we want to avoid; have pain end and so on. We are often eager to fulfill our own plans instead of waiting to hear or discern other options. When we’ve lost something we have an opportunity to discover what’s most important in our life … and yet if we forgo the waiting we miss the opportunity to welcome the light to dispel the darkness. T.S. Eliot in a poem called: “East Coker” states this beautifully:

“I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope, For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; Wait without love, For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith ,But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting; Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought; So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.”

Today’s image comes from an early morning waiting for light in Telluride, Colorado.